


A Soul Ignited

by bangtan_brat



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Other, POV Second Person, Retelling, because rinea deserved better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 03:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15330330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangtan_brat/pseuds/bangtan_brat
Summary: Duma called Rinea first. Berkut never stood a chance.





	A Soul Ignited

You are unprepared to hold the Prince’s favor, and unprepared for the whirlwind that ensues thereafter.

You come from a modest house with modest lands held and modest titles to match it. You are taught to be ashamed of modesty, and flush with embarrassment as you detail your modest lineage to your Prince. Your face burns red and hot and you think you must be made of fire, but Lord Berkut cools your cheek with his hand. He cares not of your lineage.

He asks what things please you and how you pass your leisure time instead; asks of your favorite scents and foods and flowers and slowly, as your courtship continues and the heat grows ever hotter inside you, you realize that you must truly be made of fire, and your purpose must be to warm your lord with that heat. A small voice in your head tells you this is a foolish thought, and your face burns yet again with embarrassment.

\--

You learn quickly; how to ignore the glares of the other ladies at court and how to hold your head high at the disapproving stares of the leaders of the old houses. Your Prince teaches you, chides you gently for casting your eyes downward.

“I would not have your gaze wasted on the floor, my lady,” he says, lifting your chin. “They would be lucky if one such as you were to even glance their way.” He turns pointedly to the gaggle of highborn girls staring you down and offers you his arm. You take it, curling your fingers around the muscle of his forearm and feel taller.

You think you may overcome the high houses’ judgement one day. A small voice in your head tells you it is a ridiculous thought, but you wonder how it could be so with your strong Prince at your side.

\--

There is a voice that lives in your head, and it has lived there since the day Lord Berkut asked you to dance alone in a tucked away room at a grand ball so long ago now.

It tells you cruelties and lies, and you do your best to ignore it.  
  
_You will never be good enough for the Prince. You are nothing, you are no one, you are less than dust._

You flush red at the thought, but you fight this voice by remembering that your lord has chosen you, and how could anything your lord chooses be nothing?

You run your thumb across the ring Lord Berkut has placed on your finger just days ago. He no longer asks you trivialities like your favorite foods and scents; he knows them all now. Of late, he asks you about your future, if you’ll stand by his side for the rest of your days, if you’ll be his Empress. A different heat builds within you.

_You desire infinitely more than you are worth._

You battle the voice in your head once more. You think it sounds louder recently.

\--

“Damn him!” Berkut is pacing furiously in his chambers. You should not be here this late at night, but when your love sent his trusted Fernand to fetch you discreetly, you hurried along without a second thought. “Damn that useless farmboy _cretin_!” He crashes his fist against the stone wall and you cringe only slightly.

You are used to his increased tension since Zofia’s advance on their homeland. You hate seeing him like this. Your proud, strong Berkut does not bend or lose to anyone. You cross the room quickly, staying his hand before he can land another meaningless blow at the wall.

“Lord Berkut, please!” you call out, at a loss for what to do but hoping to see his expression soften. The voice in your head returns, reinforcing your helplessness:

_You offer him nothing; you drag him down and nothing more._

Berkut is looking down furiously, his eyes cold and hard, but his expression otherwise unguarded, as it only is for you. You furrow your brow and think you understand why he sent for you. Hesitantly, you bring your hand to his face to cup his cheek, cold and tense as his eyes. He exhales at your touch and you think you may be melting him.

“Rinea,” he begins quietly, and your heart swells with pride at the sound of your name on his tongue, “I will not fail you. I will not fail my Uncle or Rigel again. I will unite this continent, and I will make you my Empress.”

He kisses you harder and more passionately than he ever has before, but breaks aways quickly to gauge your response.

_Such a pity that his perfection is wasted on you._

You silence the pestering voice by returning Berkut’s kiss with all the drama and intensity you can give, pressing your body tight against him. You will not allow the voice to make you doubt your love’s devotion to you.

His hands are like ice against your skin, but once again, you think you may be melting him.

_If you would be his Empress, you will need my help._

You will be his Empress, and you will be worthy of standing at his side.

Inside you is fire and with your beloved inside you now too, it is stoked hotter and stronger than ever before.

\--

You have always felt uncomfortable at court, but never more so than on the rare occasion that you are witness to Emperor Rudolph’s apparent disregard for your Prince.

“Sire! Your Excellency, wait!” Berkut calls with desperation. “ _Uncle!_ ”

The Emperor leaves without a second glance. You feel the heat of anger rising in your chest and think you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

_Call to me..._

“DAMN! Damn it all!!”

You edge your way out of the shadows, and when he sees you, the fury in his voice subsides.

“Rinea, you shouldn’t be here,” he says, softening a bit as he cups your face with concern. “Are you unwell, my lady? Your skin is hot as flames.”

“I’m alright, my lord,” you say, and Berkut places a kiss on your forehead.

“Hurry and get somewhere safe, I must go and ensure that the castle does not fall.” He turns from you in a sweeping motion, and you are angrier at the Emperor’s blindness to such dedication.

_You who thirsts for worthiness...call to me, and become your lord’s strength._

The voice that lives inside your head speaks to you, and you had decided long ago that you would stand with Lord Berkut until the very end.

“Berkut,” you call after him, and you have his rapt attention, “I know you will come back to me safely.”

The Crown Prince’s cold gaze hardens with what you perceive as determination. He leaves to fulfill his duty.

_Call to me…_

You leave to fulfill yours.

\--

You find him listless and wandering in the deepest corner of Duma Temple, the fiery altar he stands before throwing shadows across his figure.. You think the voice in your head must have led you to him.

_Call to me…_ it beckons, incessantly now. _Heed me....Accept me unto your soul._

“Rinea…” Berkut’s typically narrowed and focused eyes are wider, almost hazy.

“This is the last place I would have expected to find you. You always hated the Faithful, after all,” you tell him, rushing to his side to swipe his sweat-soaked hair from his forehead.

“I wanted to BEAT him, Rinea!” He yells, and he has never looked more wild with the reflection of flames dancing in his eyes. “I wanted to make you my Empress and hold all Valentia in our palms together! But what of those dreams now?!”

You feel again the heat of anger in your chest. Your lord, your Berkut, has had the world snatched away from him, his dream ripped from under his feet…

_Call to me..._

“All I ever dreamed of was to stand at your side…”

_Heed me and become his strength..._

You watch his expression change to one that you cannot recognize, have never seen in all the time that you’ve known him.

“You...you too, Rinea?” He asks, “Were you laughing along with them? Rudolf and the rest? Watching me toil away while you knew I would never become Emperor! Was every kind word part of the act? Every smile an act of PITY?!”

_Heed me…_

The accusation in his voice and the look of betrayal on his face shatters your resolve.

You are vehement.

_Accept me unto your soul!_

_“Yes, Lord Duma…”_ you finally reply to the voice inside your head. The change you feel is instantaneous.

“Rinea?! Answer me!” You barely hear Berkut shouting at you. You feel as though you are seeing him for the first time, and smile into those cold, dark eyes. You have always thought you could melt away that coldness; now you are sure of it.

“No, Berkut,” you say gently. “Not me.”

He widens his eyes and you know he believes you. How could he ever think you would betray him?

You stand tall and block his path to altar, backlit by the flames that you feel are still not burning as hot as the fire inside you.

“My love,” you say, extending your hand. “Come with me. He has called to you too, I know it. Lord Duma.”

“Rinea…” Berkut mutters, entranced.

“You were born to lead.”

You take a step backwards.

“Come with me…”

Another step.

“If you’ll still take me for your Empress?”

You have him entirely.  
  
Berkut accepts your hand, and you hold his gaze with pride as you take the final step into the flames. He embraces you as you fall together to offer Lord Duma whatever price he wills, your strong Berkut’s lips finally warm against your own.

The voice in your head is silenced, pleased that you accept your purpose; you will be a worthy Empress.

In your soul you have always been fire. In your body you are fire now. And all that is left for fire to do is burn.

**Author's Note:**

> bruh there ain't no way berkut would've tossed the love of his life into the pits of hell without something a LITTLE more compelling convincing him to do it, I just don't buy it lol.


End file.
